India – April 2026
Neha’s only condition for joining my stopover in the Andaman Islands on the way home from Tokyo to Switzerland is simple: it has to be cheap. Knowing we’d already spend a fortune on diving, I look for ways to save on accommodation. The hostel I stayed at during my first visit is wonderful but more expensive than we’d like, while the budget bungalows all have mixed reviews and would require renting a scooter. As a last resort, I open Couchsurfing. Only one host appears on Havelock Island. With little hope, I send him a message. To my surprise, Rahul replies almost immediately, happy to host us for a couple of days. Relieved, I board my flight from Japan and meet Neha in Port Blair 24 hours later. After a proper catch-up and a good night’s sleep, we finally board the government ferry to Havelock, for which we’d painstakingly secured tickets.
During the first hour of the crossing, Neha introduces me to One Piece. We become so immersed in the show that when the ferry suddenly comes to a halt, we instinctively grab our backpacks and get off, convinced we’ve reached Havelock. Only once we’re standing on the pier do we realize we’re actually on Neil Island. Luckily, there’s still time to rush back on board before the ferry departs again. On our way downstairs, the smell of fresh dosas drifts out of the galley. Neha suggests asking whether we could buy some. Instead, the kitchen crew invites us into the staff berth. While they prepare breakfast, she helps chop onions for their own lunch and I happily cool down in the wonderfully overpowered air conditioning. The dosas turn out to be among the best I’ve ever had, followed by steaming chai on the stern of the ferry as the Andaman Sea slowly slips by. Somehow, sharing breakfast with the crew feels like a much better use of our remaining sailing time than watching another episode.
Once we finally reach Havelock, a passing public bus takes us to Govind Nagar, where one of Rahul’s staff members welcomes us at his dive shop before leading us to his house. Rahul turns out to be exactly the kind of person Couchsurfing was created for. Before we’ve even unpacked our bags, we’re discussing our childhoods, religion, economics, travel and life in general. The conversation flows so naturally that by late afternoon we have to remind ourselves we’d actually come to the island to dive. Our first stop is Scubalov, where I’m delighted to find many of the people I dived with a few months earlier still working there. Coincidentally, there’s an open spot on the following morning’s boat to Johnny’s Gorge and Broken Ledge, so I sign up immediately while Neha begins her Advanced Open Water course. We end the evening at Fullmoon Café, enjoying good food, a warm sea breeze and the feeling that we’d already made the right decision by coming back.
The following days settle into an easy rhythm. We spend our mornings underwater while Neha works towards her certification and I happily revisit some of my favourite dive sites around Havelock. Afternoons disappear in well-earned naps after the early starts, and evenings are reserved for long conversations with Rahul about everything from philosophy and politics to religion and everyday life. Somewhere along the way we stop feeling like guests. One afternoon Rahul mentions that a group of friends is planning a guided walk through the mangroves with two government biologists. Intrigued, we decide to join after our dives the following day. Just before sunset we set off from Nemo Beach and wade into the mangroves. Mosquitoes buzz around us as daylight fades, forcing us to rely on our head torches. The shallow water is teeming with life. Tiny frogs cling to the roots, colourful sea slugs decorate the rocks and curious octopuses dart between the pools.
Then we reach the highlight of the evening. Beneath the surface, bioluminescent corals glow softly in the darkness. We stand in silence for a while, simply admiring the spectacle before making our way back. By now the tide has risen considerably, revealing even more wildlife. In the red beam of our flashlights, clownfish dance among glowing anemones, and back on the beach a snake silently slithers beneath the palm trees. On the way home Rahul lets us borrow his scooter for a small detour to pick up mango shakes. Somewhere along that ride we both realize neither of us is particularly interested in leaving for Neil Island anymore. Instead, we ask Rahul whether we could stay until the end of the week. Without hesitation, he tells us to make ourselves at home. The remaining days fly by all too quickly.
We dive whenever boats head to our favourite sites, celebrate Neha becoming an Advanced Open Water Diver with cold beers on the beach, take sunset rides to Radhanagar Beach on Rahul’s scooter and happily accept fresh fruit from the neighbour’s children. Neha and I finally get to make Zaru Soba together at one of Rahul’s volunteer’s house and the three of us nerd out about the shaun the sheep nudibranch. In the afternoons we enjoy the strong fan in our room and long conversations about god(s) and the world with our host. On our final evening Rahul invites several friends over. Many of them joined us on the mangrove walk a few days earlier. They arrive in high spirits to watch a cricket match projected onto the wall until a pizza delivery somehow finds its way to this tiny island in the middle of the Andaman Sea. After dinner the match is quietly forgotten and YouTube karaoke takes over. For hours I listen to Indian classics from the 1990s and 2000s, occasionally attempting to sing along while learning more about Kolkata, Durga Puja and countless other topics I never expected to discuss on a diving trip.
The next morning we return to Port Blair. Looking back, Couchsurfing certainly achieved its original goal. We saved a week’s worth of accommodation. But by the end, that hardly seemed important anymore. What I remember isn’t the money we saved, but accidentally getting off the ferry on the wrong island, eating dosas with the kitchen crew, glowing corals hidden in the mangroves, sunset scooter rides, neighbour’s children arriving with fresh fruit and a karaoke night with people who had been complete strangers only a few days earlier. I came back to Havelock because I wanted to dive there again. I left convinced that, sometimes, the best part of travelling isn’t the place itself, but the people who unexpectedly make it feel like home.
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